Apple Tree - oneshot
by rubie
Summary: Chid's oneshot.... he is caught between his duties as king and his desire to be a child... a simple, short, weird, not dark, veeery minor waff story I managed to write at 1 am... had to get it out of my system... -.- Enjoy!


Yes! I admit it! I love trees! Not dark at all. hum... has minor waff... but considering how  
terribily I write romance... ahahah... ^_^;;  
  
Standard disclaimers apply.  
  
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Apple Tree  
by Rubie aka Jenn  
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Children.  
  
Running through the fields.  
  
Smiling.  
  
Laughing.  
  
Happy.  
  
It makes me want to smile, just watching them. They seem so carefree, flying in the wind,  
their faces vibrant like the grassy fields. And there are times I want to join them, but I  
know that I cannot. I never can.  
  
But do I really want to?  
  
I am not sure.  
  
There are times when I wish I was like them, true. But I cannot imagine myself being  
among them. They seem so.... naive, childish, simplistic. I know I can never be like that.   
  
My father, if he saw, would laugh scornfully. And that thought makes me cringe.  
  
But at times I dream of myself being a normal child, from a normal family. What would  
my life be like? Would I run though those hills like them, without a care in the world?  
Would I laugh at seemingly at nothing amusing, just to hear that delicate music?  
Probably, though the absurdity of that thought brings an unbidden smile to my face.  
Those actions seem so... childish.  
  
But I am still a child, aren't I?  
  
My father often used to say that I am a duke. Not a child. I'll never be a child. I never was  
a child. And those words were meant to comfort me, I'm sure, but it only left me more  
confused.  
  
If I was never a child, then what am I? A duke? A noble? A leader of a country?  
  
No.... people don't believe that. The courtiers may be kind to me. They smile as I walk  
by, and bow to me as the formalities demand, but I can tell. I can tell by their quick and  
unsteady glances that they are weary of me. Their comments are only of respectability and  
honor, but I can tell. I can tell my their eyes that they disapprove of me. Their words are  
always coated with sugar and their smiles bright, but I can tell. I can tell my their faces  
that they are scornful of my age and doubtful of my ability.  
  
I am too young, they think, to lead a country properly. I need guidance. I cannot take on  
such a task. And the truth is, they do not accept me. They think of me as a boy, unfitting  
towards such a difficult position.  
  
And when I walk onto the playground close to my home, the children freeze as if a distant  
storm is approaching. An uncomfortable hush settles over the field. And I know I am the  
cause of it. When I greet a boy, he bows deeply and speaks stuttering words. He stumbles  
over his feet and refuse to meet my eyes. I make him uncomfortable. I know that all they  
want is for me to leave so they could be themselves, and laugh again. I am not welcome  
there.  
  
I am not a child.  
  
I am not a duke.  
  
What am I?  
  
A girl laughs, her hazel eyes gleaming.  
  
She grasps the hands of a little boy next to her, and his face flushes a bright pink.  
  
She's oblivious, but talks to him eagerly, her expressions sincere.  
  
And the fields dances around them, echoing her laughter.  
  
It must be beautiful, to be outside.  
  
It must be beautiful, being able to clasp the hands of that young girl, and grinning to those  
asinine flowers.  
  
It must be beautiful, without a care in the world.  
  
But at the same time, their actions seem so.... naive... foolish even. I know that I would  
never be able to do that. I would never be able to let go, and return to that childish  
innocence. I would never be able to laugh with the wind, and dance with the vines. My  
father, for one, would never forgive me. And those courtiers... who knows what they'll  
think. I can never...  
  
And yet I can never be like those nobles, their faces fixed in a smiling mask, their  
expressions full of pretense and false compassion. I wish I could be like my father; a  
strong, proud, brave man who never gave a thought to those around him. I wish I could  
shut off those around me, and follow this path. I wish I could ignore those glances and  
whispers, and simply follow my dream.  
  
But what is my dream? Many courtiers had asked that question with that smile on their  
faces.  
  
'To rebuild Fried,' I would always reply with a confident smile. 'To make it strong. To  
make my people happy.'  
  
To make my father smile, and be proud of me.  
  
Then they would laugh condescendingly. 'The apple never falls far from the tree,' they  
would say. And then pat my head as if I was a young boy.  
  
I don't know what that means. I guess apple trees aren't usually tall.  
  
Then when they leave, I would have a lingering void within my heart. Questions tear at  
my heart, and rage in my mind.   
  
Are those dreams really my own?  
  
They are my father's. I know that.   
  
And I'll do anything to have him smile... for me. But all I ever dream about is how to be  
accepted by those children and those courtiers.   
  
Why am I so foolish?  
  
Why am I so weak?  
  
The trees tense and strain against the suddenly raging wind, and those frail leaves are  
shredded. Those tears of emerald graze my face, before being torn by the spring current.  
They trees mirror my frustration of weakness and helplessness.   
  
The little girl looks up, her eyes gleaming.  
  
They drift to the window of that forbidden cage.  
  
And for a moment, her eyes light on me.  
  
Her hazel eyes widen in fascination.  
  
I look away. For a moment, I feel a flush creeping across my cheeks. What will she think?  
The king of her country, spying on a group of children playing in the spring fields. It must  
so absurd. She must be laughing.  
  
I quickly glance back again. Those eyes are still locked on me, but her lips has twisted  
into a shy smile. I could feel a nameless emotion creep into my face, and crawl down my  
spine. But I could not look away. Then she breaks into a full smile, her eyes gleaming like  
jewels in the sun. She laughs and turn to that boy beside her, and they run towards the  
glowing grasslands.  
  
The fields sway to the wind's hands.  
  
The skies sing in harmony with the lands' heart.  
  
And at that moment, I wish for all my heart to be that little boy.  
  
I wish to be like them.  
  
I wish to among them.  
  
I wish to be accepted by them.  
  
I wish to be a child.  
  
My father will be so ashamed.  
  
  
End  
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yes! finally out of my head... can breathe easier... caffine overdose... ^_^;;.. gotta stop  
trying to write at 1 am in the morning. Dornkirk was eaten by my computer.... -.-;; will  
restore him soon. um.. draft version. May be edited in the future... x.x  



End file.
